


This Is Where I Leave You

by Apparentlynotreallyfinnish



Series: Prompted ficlets [10]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Realtionship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish/pseuds/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish
Summary: Prompted follower giveaway ficlet. Prompt: a sad ficlet, with no happy ending. MIND THE TAGS, please!





	This Is Where I Leave You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write unhappy endings, so when that was prompted by sweetsodamick I thought I'd go all the way to the extreme and have one them be dead. This ficlet is Link mourning after Rhett. Nothing graphic about his death is said. I still would advice you not to read this if you at all feel like this sounds too upsetting to you.

Link stood frozen at the door, hand placed on the handle. The building was unnervingly silent.

The walk through the office had been like a trek through crumbled ruins. Most of the furniture had been taken away, the rest were strewn about, moved during the move, and left where they’d happened to land. In his mind, Link still saw the office as it had been. This is where Kevin sat. This is where they had the lunch tables. This is where Chase fell the one time someone had accidentally poured dishwashing liquid on the floor while testing an experiment for the show. This is where they stood when Jen came up with the name for Mythical Society.

_This is where we evolved._

_This is where we found our people._

_This is where we realized our dreams._

Finally, he was at their office door. Standing still and gathering courage. How could he do it? How could he go in and look at the bare walls? Link drew a shaky breath and steeled himself. He could have had someone else come in. But he knew he needed to do this himself. It hurt, but it was necessary. The door made a pitiful, creaky sound like even it knew that it had become obsolete. Link stepped in and was instantly barraged with a flood of emotions.

_This is where we created._

_This is where we found our home._

_This is where we were our happiest._

The emptiness of the room perfectly matched the empty void inside Link. Some papers and office supplies were lying on the floor, gathering dust. The desks and shelves were gone. The sun had burned the front wall and left behind ghostly squares that told Link where the records had once been. He’d taken them down himself. Donated them. He couldn’t bear to look at them anymore. Link walked up to the wall and traced the edge of one square with his fingertip. Dust clung to his finger, and he swept it off on his pants.

Link’s gaze jumped over to the couch. He moved quickly to leave it behind him. Those were the memories he wasn’t ready for yet. He walked across the deserted space and climbed up to the loft. It was almost empty too. One small desk lamp had been left on the floor and next to it, sat, for some reason, the smallest society gong. Link took it and dinged it by flicking his fingers. The sound was shrill and surprisingly loud in the emptiness of the room. Link cringed and put it back down on the floor.

He stood at the top of the stairs and imagined the space as it had been. He imagined their chairs there in the middle of the room. He imagined Jade sleeping on his and Barbara sniffling around the other, tail wagging happily. Link imagined the art on the walls and the huge gong that Rh… Link gasped out loud at the sharp bite of the pain. No, he couldn’t even _think_ his name. But he had loved that thing though; loved to annoy Link with it. He’d sounded it every time they’d climbed up here looking to get a reaction and often succeeding. Link heard his laugh. It rang so clearly in his mind, he almost doubled over by the ache it left in him. He breathed, he fought the tears, he grabbed his knees and tried not to heave. He was going to remember everything, even when it hurt. He’d promised that much. Link would have promised anything and everything if that had meant that he could’ve stayed.

The pain faded back down to what it had been ever since – a constant hum at Link’s core. Link straightened. He looked one last time; let his gaze sweep through the space. Tried to gather all the memories he could from it.

_This is where we fought._

_This is where we made up._

_This is where you kissed me the first time._

With a heavy heart, he turned and descended. The couch was looming on the other side of the room. Link swallowed and walked to it with shaky legs. It was the only thing still here. Someone had tried to move it on the day, and Link had suffered a full-blown meltdown. Stevie sat with him for a full hour after that and told everyone that the thing was not to be touched by anyone. Stevie probably thought Link would have it shipped to his house. He had no intention of doing that. The new owners could do as they wished with it. It would be better if Link didn’t know. He’d only come to say goodbye.

He sat on it carefully at first, almost as if he was afraid to awaken the ghosts slumbering on it. The leather gave in gladly. Link leaned back and slumped against the headrest. His fingertips caressed the smooth surface of the cushion, worn down by the hours and hours spent on it. Link’s head lolled to its side, and he drew a deep breath. The leather smelled earthy and faintly sweet. It reminded Link of him. He pressed closer and drew another breath, sinking into the scent.

_This is where you touched me._

_This is where you made love to me._

_This is where you made the promise you could not keep._

Link slid down on the couch, head thumping heavily on the cushion, legs stretching out. He closed his eyes and tried to will the tears to fall. He’d been sure that coming here would draw them out. He’d been all cried out when it had finally happened. He hadn’t cried since. It seemed like he should. He laid there and let the memories wash over him. All the nights spent sitting here next to each other. Always touching. Even the smallest of distance between them had been something they couldn’t stand. He’d come here hoping to feel him again. He knew that now. Link drifted at the edge of dream. He tugged his knees to his chest and wrapped around himself, like he once had, willing himself to imagine him here. Time stretched and compressed. Link wasn’t sure how long he’d spent on the couch.

Suddenly, a light breeze from the window left open tussled Link’s hair. A faint scent of sandalwood enveloped him. Link drew a sharp breath as the tears finally fell.

Link felt him. He was here. He was home.

A sob fell from his lips.

_Rhett._


End file.
